


Things Happen in the Small Hours of Morning

by janto321 (FaceofMer)



Series: Night Hymns [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Bottom Sherlock, Bottom Sherlock Holmes, Comfort Sex, First Time, M/M, Nightmares, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Top John, Top John Watson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-05
Updated: 2013-08-05
Packaged: 2017-12-22 11:34:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/912721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FaceofMer/pseuds/janto321
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even at Baker Street  John Watson has nightmares that keep him awake. Early one morning he's surprised to find Sherlock in his room, making an unexpected offer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Things Happen in the Small Hours of Morning

Since moving in to Baker Street, John Watson found the nightmares came much less often. But they still came, creeping unsuspecting from the dark, leaving him gasping and panting in his sheets, sometimes grabbing his shoulder as if the wound was fresh and bleeding. There was no getting back to sleep after that and since his laptop was usually in the sitting room he’d just sit in the dark and watch the night pass through the high window, waiting for the dawn when he could creep downstairs and make himself a cuppa and pretend the nightmares never happened.

On one of those chill nights, a few months after this mad adventure with Sherlock started, he shot awake again, groaning as he grabbed his shoulder, trying to shake himself awake, even as he was halfway reaching for a gun that wasn’t there.  The door creaked as it opened and he sat bolt upright, reaching for the gun in his nightstand on instinct.

“John.” Sherlock’s voice was quiet, soothing.

John dropped his hands and sat back against the headboard. “What is it? Lestrade call?” He took a few shaky breaths and started to get up.

“No, he didn’t.” Sherlock moved into the room, almost silently.  John sat back again, heart beating faster for a different reason as the bed dipped and Sherlock sat down near his feet. “That’s your third nightmare this week.”

John shrugged. “Been a slow week for cases. Didn’t mean to wake you.”

“I was awake,” said Sherlock, as if he never slept, which, John knew he never slept enough.

“Well I’m fine now, you can go on back to bed.”

Sherlock shook his head and moved a little closer. John’s throat tightened and he scooted away, feeling cornered. “You won’t go back to sleep either. You’ll sit here until morning.”

“How could you possibly…” John shook his head. Of course Sherlock knew. Probably he’d rigged up a camera or something. God, that was a terrifying thought.

“I would never invade your privacy like that,” said Sherlock, reading his thoughts like usual.

He started to elaborate, but John put a hand out to stop him. “It…it’s fine. What are you doing in my room, then?”

Reaching out a hand, Sherlock touched John’s foot, the only part in reach. John jerked it back. “I told you, I’m not gay.”

Instead of speaking, Sherlock crowded John’s space again. John closed his eyes as he felt his flatmate get far closer than he had any right to get. There was no hiding the way his breath hitched as Sherlock lay those slender fingers on his chest. Apparently his body wasn’t entirely on board with ‘not gay’ as there was certainly a reaction, especially as Sherlock started working on the buttons of his pajama shirt.

In a few moments Sherlock’s hand was on his bare skin. John moaned despite himself, still refusing to open his eyes. It had been far too long since anyone touched him, let alone like this. “John,” said Sherlock, voice quiet but commanding. “Look at me, John.”

Slowly John opened his eyes and looked up into Sherlock’s face. The soft moonlight gave him a slightly ethereal glow, his curly hair like a halo. John thought it was maybe the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. The cold, calculating Sherlock he was used to was replaced by a softer, more tentative man. Sherlock licked his lips as he watched John, clearly desiring, but holding back.

 _Bugger_ , thought John and he leaned up to kiss him.

This time it was Sherlock that moaned, parting his mouth. John’s eyes closed again as he reached up and tangled his hands in that mop of hair, his tongue exploring Sherlock’s mouth. It was different then kissing a woman, but it was obvious just how much the other man wanted this. Damnit to hell, not like he was going to get back to sleep tonight anyway.

He finally broke the kiss for air. Sherlock watched his face again, looking for permission. Finding it, he shucked his pajama bottoms, revealing he’d been wearing nothing underneath, and shifted himself into John’s lap, kneeling astride the smaller man’s hips. John pulled him down for another kiss, steeling himself as he took Sherlock’s erection in hand.

Sherlock growled his pleasure, a low rumble that went right to John’s own cock. He could hardly believe he was doing this. “So, uh, how are we…?”

Sherlock opened his eyes and reached into the drawer, pulling out lube and a condom that John was certain _he_ hadn’t put there. Instead of speaking, Sherlock pulled down John’s bottoms and pants and gave him a few expert strokes. Of course they were expert. Sherlock Holmes didn’t do anything by half measures. John’s head rocked back against the headboard as he thrust into Sherlock’s hand.

“I already prepared myself,” said Sherlock as he slid the condom onto John and applied a liberal amount of lube. John barely had time to think about Sherlock fingering himself before the other man shifted forward and started lowering himself onto John’s cock.

John grabbed Sherlock’s hips and thrust upward, making Sherlock shout with pleasure. John dearly hoped Mrs. Hudson was a heavy sleeper as he worked himself deeper. John’s head went back against the headboard again with a thunk. That was it. He gave a low growl of his own and pushed them over so that he was on top. Sherlock’s legs automatically hooked around his hips as he plowed into the other man, seeking his own release more than anything else in that moment.

One of Sherlock’s hands grab the sheets, the other one grabbed his cock, head thrown back and making the long line of his neck look even longer. John leaned down and bit that neck just above the pulse point, making Sherlock moan and writhe beneath him. Oh God, this was filthy, but John couldn’t help but think this was just what he needed. He tugged at Sherlock’s hair, bringing his head back even further as John explored that neck with tongue and teeth, never faltering in his strokes.

To John’s surprise, Sherlock came first, filling the space between them with his cum as he called out John’s name. John felt Sherlock squeeze him from the inside and came just moments later, cursing as the world seemed to white out with pleasure.

When John was aware of himself again he found himself on his back, the condom disposed of and Sherlock just finishing wiping off his stomach with a warm washcloth. “You can sleep now,” said Sherlock, gentleness still in his voice. John half nodded and curled up on his side, asleep in moments.

 

Sunlight streamed into his room as John woke in the morning. He started awake, throwing off the covers. His pajama bottoms had been pulled back up, but his shirt was still off. Shaking his head he leaned over and opened the drawer. A few more condoms and packets of lube were there, as if to say the offer stood, but only if he wanted it.

John got up and dressed, thinking. He knew he wasn’t gay; after all, he’d never been attracted to a man before. But well, he supposed, what happened in the wee hours of the morning could stay in the wee hours of the morning. He made his way downstairs, unsurprised to find Sherlock on his laptop and that he’d drank the last of the tea. He said nothing as he put a fresh kettle on and cautiously opened the refrigerator to see what they had for breakfast. Just a normal morning.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me at [merindab.tumblr.com.](http://merindab.tumblr.com/)


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